


Poetry of the Heart

by Glory_Jean



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-14
Updated: 2010-03-14
Packaged: 2017-11-26 04:53:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/646763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glory_Jean/pseuds/Glory_Jean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some things need to be said, but there is more than one way of speaking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Poetry of the Heart

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting on a file for at least fifteen months, written in a fit of angst. So, not my usual style at all. Quotes credited at the bottom of the page. **Hugs** to my betas who declared this done long ago. And once again thanks to [](http://achuislemochroi.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://achuislemochroi.livejournal.com/)**achuislemochroi** for the summary.

**Title:** Poetry of the Heart  
 **Author:** [](http://glory-jean.livejournal.com/profile)[**glory_jean**](http://glory-jean.livejournal.com/)  
 **Character/Pairing:** Ten/Rose, Donna  
 **Setting:** S2, mid S4  
 **Rating:** All ages  
 **Genre** Angsty angst  
 **Beta:** [](http://achuislemochroi.livejournal.com/profile)[**achuislemochroi**](http://achuislemochroi.livejournal.com/) and [](http://momdaegmorgan.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://momdaegmorgan.livejournal.com/)**momdaegmorgan**  
 **Disclaimer:** Based on characters owned and created by BBC, used without permission.  


 

 

__

> This Is Just To Say1
> 
> I have eaten  
>  the plums  
>  that were in  
>  the icebox
> 
> and which  
>  you were probably  
>  saving  
>  for breakfast
> 
> Forgive me  
>  they were delicious  
>  so sweet  
>  and so cold

 

Rose wrote the last word with a flourish, grinning a little manically. She then carefully walked to the galley, trying to be quiet without appearing sneaky, should he happen upon her. The corridors and the galley were blessedly empty so she deposited the sheet of paper in the cold storage unit (which the Doctor insisted was nothing like a refrigerator) and quickly returned to the library. Sparing the empty room a secretive smile, she went back to her book.

Several days – and adventures – later, she had forgotten about that bit of notepaper.

*^*^*^*^*^*

“Rose?” The Doctor's voice was small and confused.

“What is it? ” she asked, concerned.

“I fou— that is — have you been reading poetry, perhaps?”

Now it was Rose's turn to be confused. She furled her brows. “Have I.....”

He held up a familiar–looking sheet of paper, pinched between his thumb and forefinger.

Laugher burst from her and she giggled helplessly. The Doctor's expression shifted into a frown.

Rose stood up, wiping tears from her eyes. Ignoring his expression, she kissed him sweetly on the cheek and left the room. Her laughter echoed in the corridor.

The next day he found a poem amongst his socks.

__

> Vladimir seated2  
>  at the trunk of a tree
> 
> a spring day  
>  at Wellesley where
> 
> he marvels at his students  
>  and their cable-knit socks
> 
> the way each elastic  
>  grips without binding
> 
> just below  
>  the knee so exquisite
> 
> an application of pressure  
>  that when said sock
> 
> is slowly  
>  peeled off  
>  the skin shows
> 
> no trace at all

It became a somewhat of a running joke between the two of them, leaving poems as notes in random places. Even after she was gone, on occasion, he still came across a sheet of paper tucked somewhere unexpected. Each discovery filled him with equal parts joy and dread.

One day, almost by accident, he told Donna about the poetry. A day or so later he found a sheet of paper beside the jam jars.

__

> The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;3  
>  It rains,and the wind is never weary;  
>  The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,  
>  But at every gust the dead leaves fall,  
>  And the day is dark and dreary.
> 
> My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;  
>  It rains,and the wind is never weary;  
>  My thoughts still cling to the mouldering past,  
>  But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,  
>  And the days are dark and dreary.
> 
> Be still, sad heart, and cease repining;  
>  Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;  
>  Thy fate is the common fate of all,  
>  Into each life some rain must fall,  
>  Some days must be dark and dreary.

 

He read the poem carefully. Twice. Three times. Then he went to the library and pulled out a book. He seated himself at his desk and began to copy a passage. Finally he stood, satisfied, and went to a long sealed room. He paused only a minute at the door. Then he tucked the page in the frame of Rose's mirror and quietly left.

__

> i carry your heart with me (i carry it in4  
>  my heart) i am never without it (anywhere  
>  i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done  
>  by only me is your doing, my darling)  
>  i fear  
>  no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want  
>  no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)  
>  and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant  
>  and whatever a sun will always sing is you
> 
> here is the deepest secret nobody knows  
>  (here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud  
>  and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows  
>  higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)  
>  and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
> 
> i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

 

 

 

 

_________________________________________________________________

Poems used:

1) "This Is Just To Say" by William Carlos Williams

2) from "Butterfly Catcher" by Tina Cane

3) "The Rainy Day" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

4) "i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart)" by ee cummings


End file.
